Firewhiskey and Snake
by Lady of Spring Rain
Summary: “Wouldn’t you like that?” Hermione caught his innuendo. He shrugged.
1. Firewhiskey and Snake

**AN: Hey everyone. You're all looking at my first complete Draco Hermione story. :)**

**It's not cotton candy more like...sweet tarts or something like that. **

**Review. :)**

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"Happy hour sweetie." The bartender said, looking at the girl. He rubbed his stained beard and scanned the rest of the bar.

"Double down." She smiled, but it was a slick one. Unhappy at best. The man nodded and poured two shots of firewhiskey for her. They sloshed as they were pushed towards her.

"Bottoms up eh?" She said, grasping the first chipped glass. She threw back the shot and went for the second. They burned as they slid down her throat. She set the glasses down on the scarred wood.

"Again." She said. The man nodded and held the bottle out, pouring the firewhiskey into the double glasses again.

A man, too regal for this setting, sat beside the girl. When the shots were pushed back to the girl he grabbed one and knocked it back.

"Go away." The girl snapped at the regal man. He shrugged and gestured at his shot glass again.

"I'm not really up for that _Granger_." He said, staring at the shot handed to him. With similar grace he put it back. Hermione did the same.

"Why are you here?" She refused to say his name. Granger was a common enough last name. They didn't need the present fame and infamy that would come with recognition. The girl-wonder and death-eaters-son, lovely combination really.

"I could ask the same."

"At least I'm suited for grit and grime." Her voice held an edge that he didn't miss.

"Blood status is really unimportant." Draco said, looking back at the girl. She smirked and knocked another shot back.

"How many of those have you had?" He asked. She shrugged.

"Four maybe. I don't now. Don't really care." She sat up further, stiffening her back. "You see _Mal- _You see I'm trying to get forget-everything drunk right now." She cut herself off, not wanting to draw attention. Of course his pressed robes and glistening blond hair didn't help either.

"Why?" He asked, fondling the glass, rolling it between his fingers.

"Get out of here. I was hoping not to be recognized for once." Hermione grumbled, starting for another shot. Draco slipped the class from her fingers and knocked it back himself.

"So far I'm unknown." He said, looking at the girl. She glared and requested another shot from the bartender.

"This place is crawling with scum. Some of _his_ minions must be around here somewhere." Hermione said.

"I don't fraternize with the lowest of low." He replied. "They'd only know me from the Prophet and other assorted periodicals"

"Of course." Hermione sneered. He looked down at her and made show of trailing his finger down her cheek.

"Has your mark…" She trailed off and pressed her fingers against his wrist, she was off but they both knew it.

"Nothing. I'm not removing it." He answered her next question.

"Why?" Hermione asked, meeting his eyes, and a familiar curious innocence boiled to the surface of her eyes.

"That'd be too easy. If I fuck up I can't just erase it can I?" He replied. She nodded and then looked away surprised by his answer. He did that a lot, surprised her.

"How's the thing with Astoria?" She changed the subject quickly. He met her eyes again. By thing she referenced their young marriage.

"Over." He replied. She nodded, not offering her condolences but he knew. They both knew Astoria was only temporary, she was not going to last.

"Luc…_Your Father _must be furious." She said. He shrugged and no words were exchanged. She rest her forehead against the gritty bar and turned to face him.

"You're taking me home." She whispered. He nodded and rest his hand on her arm for a brief second. Momentary comforts.

"Whose your father pushing for next?" She asked. Draco gave a noncommittal grunt before answering.

"No one. He just wants me to have an heir." Draco swallowed hard. "Doesn't care at all about their blood-status or who it's with." His eyes narrowed for a moment as they locked with her copper ones.

"Wouldn't you like that?" Hermione caught his innuendo. He shrugged.

"I'm not asking for love." He said.

"No, just a child." She snapped back.

"We get along." He put back a shot. "well enough, you're healthy, I'm healthy, I can support you financially, you're intelligent and a long shot from boring."

"I'll be your trophy wife is what you're asking of me." She replied, sitting up again. He looked away for a second and then back. Again silence descended upon them.

"Are you going to reply?" Something sharp cut his words.

"Are you seriously proposing?" She retorted. He looked down.

"Yeah. I am." She met his eyes, copper and silver.

"I don't want a kid right now Draco." She said his name. He nodded.

"It can wait a bit." He replied, refusing to look away.

She didn't reply immediately. She stared at him, not breaking eye contact.

"Fine." She finally said, breaking eye contact.

"Fine as in yes?" He confirmed. She nodded quickly and then looked away. He grasped her chin and forced her eyes to meet his. A scathing kiss followed.

A few galleons were dropped on the bar and he stood up.

"Come on Miss Hermione Granger, I wouldn't be a good fiancée if I didn't take you home now would I?" He helped her stand. She glared at him as the bartender finally realized who the girl was.

"Thank you. _Malfoy_" She hissed. And the bartender's eyes shot up into his hair. The Hermione Granger, The Draco Malfoy and they were sitting in his bar.

Draco coiled the girl in his arms and with a crack disapparted from the bar.


	2. The Afterwords

**AN: Part 2 :D**

**This is a bit more choppy then the other one, but you'll see.**

Review. :)

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"You actually came, I wasn't sure you were going to go through with this." He said, lounging on a regal looking sofa, it was so very Malfoy. She glanced around the room, impeccably clean and all very formal.

"I agreed didn't I?" She replied, holding her head high.

"You were drunk." He deadpanned.

"I'm a better drinker then that _Malfoy._" She said. He smiled and stood up from the sofa.

"Of course you are. You do understand what wedding me entails correct?" He said, approaching. She held her ground. He never scared her, try as hard as he might. She didn't answer his question. He stood in front of her and let his hand cradle her chin.

"You have to bare a child." He said.

"The only condition." She said. He nodded and held her chin, their eyes locked. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her, gentle and relaxed. She kissed him back and let her arms slide around his neck. He seemed to whisper her name in his breath as he pulled away. So much like their sixth year, when they would disappear into abandoned classrooms and cupboards. She dragged her arm down his and rubbed her finger over location of the Mark. He pulled away.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, a barely their whisper.

"For what? Leaving? For lying? For this?" She pressed her thumb against the mark. He bowed his head.

"For all of it."

"You better be." She grunted and kissed him again. He didn't reply and they got lost in the kiss.

"I don't love you." She said, pulling away, his hand was still entangled in her brown hair.

"I know that." He smirked. He held her gaze again.

"Good." And they were locked in kisses.

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"You're marrying him? _Him!_" Harry was shocked. Hermione held his gaze, something in her stiff holding her back straight.

"Yes."

"Why? You don't even love him…" Ron snapped. Hermione smirked slowly and she realized that she spent way to much time around Draco.

"That's not always apart of the equation Ron. It's more of a convenience marriage.

"Convenience?" Harry asked.

"He needs an heir." She shook her hair out and then met Harry's eyes again.

"Why doesn't he adopt or something." Ron grunted.

"I want to marry him, Ronald." She whispered his name.

"You're delusional." Ron snapped. Sometimes Hermione wondered if he was right.

"No, I'm accepting the facts." She smiled something dark. Harry furrowed his brow and looked away.

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The wedding ensemble was sparse, a bride, her solitary maid, a groom and his solitary best man. It was grandiose, over the top and all so Malfoy. The divison between Order and Death Eaters was distinct. They didn't cross over.

Andromeda and Narcissa shared a private moment, speaking of the horrors and how they couldn't not believe what happened to their family. Harry was seen discussing something with Lucius.

But the color scheme wasn't just silver, gold seemed to hint through out the event. A perfect example of gold and silver together.

Surprisingly the entire event went off without a hitch.

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	3. Scorpian

**AN: I had in mind to expand that last paragraph of the previous chapter. I feel this may futher explain the wedding, if only a bit. I _may_** **expand the rest but I'm not sure. I have it marked as finished because everything I add, if I add anything at all, will simply be expanding upon a previous idea. As is the story can exist without whatever I may expand. **

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Four years into their marriage they had a solitary son, Scorpius. Blonde, grey eyed and calculating at first glance you saw his father and even, in the curve of his cheeks and straight lines of his hair, hints of his grandfather.

As you get to know the boy you start to see his mother. In the roundness of his eyes and lips fuller then his father. He seemed to know anything you asked and anti-social in a way that could be seen in both of his parents he was always with a novel. After burning through the expansive library in his own home he began searching local libraries, both wizardly and muggle.

It was assumed that, like his father and grandfather, he would be on the quiddich team. But the boy had clearly inherited his mothers lack of grace on a broom. He was sorted into Slytherin, the sort hat exclaiming that his fathers blood ran to thick for him to go anywhere else.

He wasn't a bully and avoided his familiars, about as good at making friends as his father. Though he did become close to the other outcast Slytherin girl a year below him.

He became a heartthrob and went from strange-loner-whose-father-was-a-death-eater to sexy-rebel-who-chooses-not-to-have-friends. That change happened somewhere around fifth year.

He excelled at potions and soon found himself in the grade up. Once, in his sixth year, a fifth year named Skylar, planted a love potion in his morning breakfast. He spent the week trying to follow her and a week fighting off his only real friend's attempts to snap him out of it.

He proceeded to hex her lunch once the potion wore off to give her an amazing amount of facial hair. When he lazed around in detention for that it was determined that he really was related to his parents.

When ever the question of love was brought up around the boy, and if he was asked if he would ever love someone, he always thought of his parents. He asked if they loved each other and he had never heard them say it. He had suspusions of his parents relationship.

His mother smiled at him and replied carefully,

"Scorpius, you can and will find love. Sometimes it comes from a weird place. Do I love your father? In a way yes."

"Why did you get married then?" He asked, meeting her eyes.

"The circumstances required it." She replied. And then kissed her son's brow. "We were meant for each other. As heat cannot exist with cold, I cannot exist without your father."


End file.
